


Terms Of Surrender

by Unread



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unread/pseuds/Unread
Summary: On the beach, Diarmuid gives Raymond de Merville what he wants instead.
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	Terms Of Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> For Diarmute Week on tumblr. Day 3 Prompt: Sacrifice

Diarmuid listens hard to what Brother Geraldus is saying to his silent friend as they attempt to pull the boat through the shallow water. Try as he might he cannot understand the French words, spoken so rapidly and with such burning fervour. It is apparent from the expression on his face that his friend understands, however. Diarmuid does not like it. He likes it even less when his friend looks at him, a fierceness burning in his eyes that pierces through Diarmuid’s flesh and into his very soul.  
  
Fear sinks into his bones that is worse than the feeling of the frigid water around him. When his friend picks up the sword -- that _accursed_ sword -- turns his back on Diarmuid and marches towards the approaching soldiers on the beach, the fear consumes Diarmuid like nothing ever has before. He barely registers his own cry of anger, nor how his hands slacken on the boat. He knows with immediate certainty what will happen, and he cannot let it. He cannot. It is not worth such a price as this. He stops the futile pulling, and instead reaches into the boat and picks up the bag that holds the rock. He shakes away Geraldus's grasping hands, and then he starts to run.

He was always a fast runner, the fastest out of all the brothers and even his silent friend. The sand is firm underfoot and does not impede him. He does not spare his friend a look as he bolts past him, scared that he might be halted. Diarmuid hears a wordless, rasping shout from behind him, which makes him run faster. He can see the soldiers on horseback up ahead, and directs himself towards the most familiar of them.  
  
Raymond de Merville dismounts at Diarmuid’s approach, halting the rest of his men behind him. There is a terrible smile on his face. “You decide to give me the rock, then, little monk?” he says, in his heavily accented English.  
  
Diarmuid, panting from his sprint, glares at him. “I do not want more lives to be lost.”  
  
“Very wise choice. Well, give it to me.”  
  
Diarmuid hands over the bag, feeling like he’s just made a deal with the Devil himself. “God will judge you for your actions,” he says bitterly, because he can do nothing else.  
  
De Merville slings the bag over his shoulder like it is an afterthought and then leans in, cupping Diarmuid’s cheek with one mailed hand. Diarmuid freezes at the contact and the terrifying closeness of the man, the smell of him, rust and sweat and horse. De Merville’s lips are almost touching Diarmuid’s temple as he whispers, “What would your God say to this?” and for a moment Diarmuid thinks the man has punched him in the stomach. Winded and gasping and tasting copper, he looks down to see a metal rod sticking out of his abdomen. Even through the pain, he registers it as the torture tool used on Brother Ciarán. He is surprised at his own surprise; he’d made a deal with the Devil, had he not? Diarmuid looks back up at de Merville, who is smiling again, sharp-faced and satisfied.  
  
Diarmuid finds that his legs can no longer support him, and he collapses onto the sand. He hears what sounds like a roar nearby, the enraged roar of a wounded beast, but he cannot focus. He does not know where de Merville went, but he does not care. The pain consumes him as he lies on the sand, lancing through his body and taking with it all rational thought. The last thing he sees is thunder clouds forming above him, and the last thing he hears is the crack of lightning splitting the sky mixing with the sound of men screaming.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://lookslikeaquentinblakedrawing.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
